21 Days: Day 15

It was a happy day off filled with fun little girl activities, duct tape crafts and a trip to the trampoline park complete with a mommy date. I mean, who could ask for more. And now I get to enjoy a full hour and a half of tv with my son. My cup runneth over.

1. I usually sleep fitfully on Sundays, and last night was no exception. I was wide awake at 2 a.m. listening to my son cackle and carry on with his Xbox live buddies. It actually made me happy since earlier he was in a dark place after Tom Brady and company dealt his Colts an embarrassing loss. Still, I got to sleep in and was grateful for a happy kid, a warm bed, a happy husband and a good report from my big girl who spent the weekend in the Big Apple.

2. Sometimes meaningful things are so simple that if you aren’t paying close attention, you might miss them entirely. Today, a few of Lily’s friends came over to make duct tape crafts for a school assignment. They work in groups to make something, then they have a little market where they sell their wares–for Monopoly money. It is a fun project that teaches them a little bit about business.

Since their class is pretty split boy/girl wise, they made cute bows and pencil holders but wanted to make something to appeal to the boys as well. Another mom who was helping suggested paper footballs out of duct tape. I remember Peyton loving paper footballs when he was Lily’s age and then some little plastic variations they made so we decided to make them. Except I had no idea how to make them.

So I ventured into his domain and asked P to make me two paper footballs. Sometimes when I ask him to do things, he complains. Sometimes, he procrastinates. And sometimes, he sweetly complies. When he responded, “Sure, Mom,” telling his xbox buddies to hold on, my heart smiled.

A year ago, that wouldn’t have been a big deal, but I recently watched one sweet little kid turn into a tween, then a teen and then boom an adult who lives in a different state, and I know these years zip by in fast forward. With this in mind, I’m trying hard to be a good boy mom and give him space and room to become who he is going to be and not be needy and clingy. But it’s really hard.

It’s painful and awkward to go from being the center of somebody’s world to being kind of a supporting role. Especially when those people are always the center of my world. That never really shifts for mothers. I know it’s natural, and I want our children to be independent, but it’s not without growing pains. Chloe and I eased naturally into more of a grown up relationship, but she still asks me for advice and shares secrets with me. I am treading carefully around this relationship with my boy because I’ve seen so many moms blow it and end up with weird (or no) grown-up relationships with their sons.

But today, he stepped outside of his world willingly and kindly to do something for me, and that made my world feel a little bit sweeter.

3. I have a fresh supply of note cards, and guess what: The post office is open tomorrow.

I had a late lunch with a friend and our girls today, and we split a salad and grilled asparagus. Also, we oooohed and awwwed over it as if these vegetables were the most amazing meal we’d ever eaten. That’s what the last week of the fast looks like.

Do you have any advice for navigating the teen years? Would you just like to commiserate? Or do you have an amazing relationship with your son and want to be my mentor? Anyone?

Dear Lord, My Baby Boy is a Teenager.

This weekend, my son turned 13. That was bizarro. It means he’s only 3 years younger than Brad was when we started dating. It means that soon girls will think of him the way I thought (and still think) about his dad. That makes me throw up in my mouth.

He’s just a little boy; right? He still crawls in my lap and snuggles with me. He still wants to hang out with us and doesn’t think it’s queer to go on a date with his mom. He’s not embarrassed by the notes I put in his lunch. A couple years ago he told me someone made fun of my note in his lunch, and I said, “Well, I’m sorry his mom doesn’t love him as much as I love you.” But I asked him if he was embarrassed, and I told him it would not hurt my feelings if he didn’t want me to put notes in his lunch. He said, “No, Mom. I like your notes.”

But very soon, he’s not gonna be a little boy anymore. He goes to high school next year. Surely, I can’t put notes in his lunch then. And I wonder if we will still be able to gush over him. He is the only boy in a family of strong female personalities. We love loud and expressively. We hug and kiss and gush.

My husband gets really uncomfortable and embarrassed when the womenfolk in his family gush over him. It generally only happens at events that serve alcohol; nevertheless, it happens. See, we were both pretty invisible in our families, so now when they “see” us, it’s awkward. For a long time, we only saw each other. For a long time, that was comfortable. It’s still comfortable when it’s just us. We see each other, and we are happy in that world.

Once, we lost a group of friends that meant a great deal to me. I cried, and Brad said, “We were fine before, and we will be fine again. All we need are the people in this house.” Our circle has grown to include others, but he’s right: If we just had God and each other, we’d still be just fine.

But someday, my boy is not gonna live in this house. Someday, my boy is not gonna need me. Someday, is his wife going to have to remind him to call me? Is she going to suggest that he should send me a card? Is she going to dislike me? Will she think I’m crazy and possessive? Will she think that his sisters and I are too overbearing and keep him away from us? Will he decide that he just needs the people in his house?

I don’t let myself go down that road too often, but I actually pray a lot about my son’s future wife. I pray that she will love and cherish his tender heart. I pray that she won’t run over him or take advantage of his gentle nature. I pray that she will appreciate and encourage him. I pray that she will want to be part of our family. I actually have a lovely young lady picked out for him at church, but I guess that might be overbearing. Course, if that happened to be God’s will, I would surely rejoice. This is the time where I imagine God shaking his head at me. Lovingly, of course.

In the meantime, I will keep praying and doing my best to cultivate a relationship that will stand the tests the teen years bring. And I will still snuggle my son every opportunity I get. I will ALWAYS cheer the loudest at his games and try to restrain myself from hurting anyone who hurts him. I prayed so much for him during the years I tried to get pregnant, and I didn’t stop when I had him. My prayers just changed from please to thank you.

Please don’t let me screw them up.

I overthink nearly every aspect of my life–mostly my mothering. It’s overwhelming and scary to have the ability to screw up three wonderful people God has placed in my really incapable hands. People have commented favorably on mine and Chloe’s relationship. And that both humbles and amazes me. I can’t take credit for our relationship; it is “but for the grace of God.” I mean, my whole life is, but Chloe who transitioned from my treasured baby to my very best friend; well, she is just a brilliant shining example of God’s grace in my life.

So brilliant that if I could hang up my mothering hat when she went to college, Brad Bell and I could exchange high fives and begin redecorating our empty nest. Alas, there are these other two children whose lives I can still potentially ruin.

I will readily admit, that I think I’m a better girl mom. I like to shop and do makeup and girly stuff. I don’t dislike sports, but I will pick Cosmo over Sports Illustrated any day, and unless the Buckeyes are playing, I’m probably reading rather than watching the game. But, I love my son very much. So much so that in this awkward tween phase where he doesn’t cuddle as much or share as many secrets or kiss me on the face anymore, sometimes I sneak into his room a few minutes before he has to get up just so I can snuggle with him and kiss his head. I guess that’s kind of a creepy stalker move, but I do it anyway. 

It’s just that we don’t enjoy a lot of the same things. I treasure our shared interests and am always trying to cultivate more. I love watching him play every sport, but if he had to choose someone to hang with, it would be Daddy. And that’s okay. Brad is a really good dad, and in many ways, he gets to be the kind of dad to P that he always wanted. Plus, sometimes they are each other’s only refuge in this house full of hormones and hairspray.

Then there’s Lily. If I’m gonna screw up any of them, it will be her. She is so much like me it is simultaneously amazing and infuriating. I cannot point out one of her flaws without reprimanding myself in the same breath. I mean, I do, but to be fair and honest, I have to put myself in check at the same time because she learned each bad behavior somewhere, and Brad rarely screams and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him throw a tantrum.

Still, there she is, the baby that I didn’t want (we planned for two kids: one boy and one girl) and never expected–the child who pushes me to the edge of sanity on a daily basis. She has taught me more about myself in six short years than I learned in nearly 40 on my own.

So as I ponder 2012’s blessings and trials, I think about what each of these children taught me. Chloe taught me unconditional love. You know, the kind of love you don’t even realize you are capable of feeling until your whole heart has been pulled from your body and is curled up on your chest. She inspires me not only to be a better mother, but also to be a better person, as I pray to live up to the image she has of me. P taught me joy, and he delights me on a daily basis with his sweet spirit and caring compassionate heart. I pray we raise him into a great man, husband, and father. Lily has taught me to let go of my plans and give in to God’s will. She is full of fire and passion, and I pray I can guide her to use her powers for good rather than evil.

I pray every day to be the mom each of them needs. I pray that God helps me guide them in the direction He has planned for their lives. I pray that I don’t saddle them with any of my own insecurities and flaws and shortcomings. I pray that I don’t screw them up.

The sweetest boy in the world…

This morning, when I dropped Peyton off at school, he leaped out of the car with a, “See ya!” As the door shut, I sadly mused, “He must be getting too big to kiss me goodbye.” Chloe, always ready to cheer me up, grumbled, “Well, yeah, he’s like 20!” Chloe has issues with the whole mother/son relationship after having dated someone who had an awkwardly close relationship with his mom. Lily, actually trying to cheer me up, suggested, “Maybe he just forgot, Mama?”

He didn’t forget. It’s been coming for awhile. First, he stopped climbing into bed with us every night. At first, I was a little relieved, since it was getting crowded in there with Brad, me, occasionally Lily, and often P. But Lily quickly decided that bed-sharing wasn’t for her, and then I missed my little nocturnal visitor, who would quietly climb in and snuggle up in the curve my body created. The curve that was just the right size for him.

Then, there were the head kisses. Each time I went to kiss him, instead of kissing me back, he would lean his head in toward me, beckoning me to kiss the top of his head. For awhile, I simply cupped his cheeks and tipped his head up to kiss his face. But then, I started to think maybe that was an invasion of his personal space. I was kissing his face because I wanted to when he really just wanted me to kiss his head. So, begrudgingly, I have started kissing the top of his head.

He has always been my little boy. He would go shopping with me, we shared an enjoyment of trashy reality shows, which we would snuggle up and watch together. Anytime I asked him to go somewhere, he always wanted to go. But lately that has transitioned to, “No thanks; I’m just gonna stay home.” Lately, he has more in common with his dad. And I absolutely love that they have a great relationship. I love that they bond over sports on tv, on the field, in the back yard, and so forth. I love that he would now rather go shoot stuff in the back yard with his dad than go shopping with me. But I miss my little boy.

Chloe chastises me, “Ew. Don’t be that mom.” But she doesn’t understand. Chloe, though loved and cherished beyond anything she could fathom, came into our life by surprise. Lily, also came by surprise. Peyton, however, was planned, dreamed about, prayed for, and hoped for. Obviously, I don’t love him more than my girls. But I think while you feel the same amount of love for each of your children, they each hold special parts of your heart. From the moment I got pregnant with him, he fulfilled some need deep in me. From the moment he was born, his sweet face, his blond curls, his precious dimple…he was just, as my mom always says, “the sweetest boy in the world.”

When he was a toddler, he used to rub my ear to fall asleep. He would say, “Mama, take your eawwings out.” He always wanted me to sleep in his bed, once advising me, “You fit good in my bed!” Even as he’s gotten bigger, he always snuggles in the chair with me in the evenings. He always wants to wait up for me, if I happen to be out past his bedtime. He always looks at me when he makes a good play in whatever sport he’s playing, so that I can smile at him, give him a thumbs up, and watch his face break into that sweet dimpled smile. He’s such a good boy. He’s going to make some lucky girl a great husband some day.

I knew he was gonna grow up. I guess I just wasn’t prepared for him to grow up today.